Salvation for a redeemer

Saviour, redeemer
Man of souls and fitting scales
Judger of the long gone realms

What toll he take?
What soul he'll mark?
This saviour of souls; too harsh?

Gazing from above, he judge.
He points on that and that,
And yells; "Disregard! Disregard!"

He measure them towards a scale
Not made for mortal men, no nay
Though made for higher kin, the gods
For whom he serves, and rules alike.

Truly takes the height its toll
For he may never be the one
That he once were, and would have been
T'was it not for spirits old

So he sit upon his throne
And holds the sceptre,
sword and crown.

Hoping for one day to find
Salvation in a single mind
Passing by his throne so high

Yet, he wished that mind to pass
Before the dice would fall at last.